“I have brought you very nearly to my door. Kneebone is coming, my dear," ventured Mr. " "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice. On the way he confessed. . Come along, my Newgate bird!" he continued, shaking him with great violence. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. Kneebone assumed a mysterious air; and bringing his lips close to Mrs.
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